


Wanted

by Rosy_Thorn



Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Avengers don't know he's a child, I Wrote This For Me, Spider-Man vs the Avengers, Spider-Man wanted for murder, a disaster child, posting it for the serotonin and validation, who would win: the Earth's Mightiest Heroes or one small teen in a homemade onsie?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 11:55:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28528071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosy_Thorn/pseuds/Rosy_Thorn
Summary: I humbly present to u the overused trope of the Avengers hunting down one Spider-Boy whose brain cells died with Uncle Ben.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 42





	Wanted

**Author's Note:**

> This has been sitting in my wips for eons. I can't promise anymore chapters. Enjoy.

Peter's leg bounced as he rode the elevator up to the Daily Bugle's main office. He caught one of the other passengers side-glancing him and he tried to contain the nervous energy that twitched out of him. The door opened and Peter slunked out.

A man waiting to get on swore, staring at Peter wide eyed. “What happened to your face, kid?”

Peter resisted the urge to feel the shiner he sported on half his face. Offering the man an awkward flash of a smile, Peter mumbled, “uh, I slipped on the ice. ‘Mnot so good at winter.”

The man shook his head with a smile, like he couldn't believe how harsh it was outside. Peter left with a small dip of his head. With a white knuckle grip on the straps of his backpack and a letter in his pocket that weighed more than Lady Liberty, he weaved through the desks and cubicles up to Mrs. Brants desk.

She sipped her coffee, staring unseeingly at her monitor. 

“Mrs. Brant?”

Her eyes snapped to him, and she startled. “Peter! Your face!”

He winced. “Uh yeah, I know it's pretty irresistible. The ice couldn't get enough of it.”

“Ice?” she asked incredulously. “Did someone throw an iceberg at it?”

The high pitched laugh of nervousness that escaped him made him blush and look down. “I, uh, need to see… I mean I have a meeting with…” He gestured hopelessly to the office door beyond her desk.

She smiled pityingly, and picked up the old phone. “Jamison, Peter Parker is here to see you.”

_ “He's late!”  _ His voice carried out of the phone and through the wall. “ _ Send him in!!” _

Peter looked at his cell. He was not late. He was five minutes early. With a sigh and a fearful glance at Mrs. Brant, he slipped into the office.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Jonah shouted, “whaddya want, Parker? What's so damn important that you had to schedule a- What happened to your face?”

Robbie stood from his chair, worry etched into his wrinkled brow. Peter was immensely relieved to see him there. He had a higher chance of being successful with Robbie there to reign Jamison in.

“Peter, are you alright? What's happened?” The man asked.

Peter stood by the door, stiff as a board. “Um. I- well, it- um.”

“Quit stuttering, Parker, get your ass in here, and spit it out.”

“Sorry.” Peter shuffled further into the room. “I'm okay. It's not as bad as it looks. Um. I just… slipped on some ice while I was taking pictures.”

Jamison's eyes lit up. “Pictures of Spider-Man?”

“Jonah!!” Robbie admonished. He placed a sturdy hand on Peter's shoulder, looking at him carefully. “You sure you're okay, kid? You don't look okay.”

Peter fidgeted under his gaze. “Yeah, it's just- I did get a few pictures of Spider-Man…” then he tacked on in a sheepish whisper, “...fighting the Avengers,” 

Robbie's hand dropped, concern peppering his features as he put together the implications.

“YES! I KNEW I KEPT YOU AROUND FOR A REASON, PARKER!” Jonah jumped out of his chair, excitedly punching the air a few times. “They had better be crisp action shots of the Avengers’ attempt to take the menace down. Let's see them, let's see them.” He held out his hand expectantly.

Peter shifted, biting his lip. “I can't hand them over yet.”

“What?!” The man barked.

Peter fumbled for the letter and held it out with jerky movements. “You, uh, need to read this first.”

Jonah stared at the letter for a few tense seconds and Peter wondered if you could go pale and blush at the same time, because his face felt like it was doing both. 

“What is this?” He snatched the letter and opened it. He glanced up at Peter questioningly. “May Parker?”

Peter only managed to nod in response, and Jonah grunted and continued reading. Curiously, Robbie made his way around the desk to read over Jonah's shoulder. A few seconds in, Jonah plomped back down into his chair. Peter watched as his eyes flitted back and forth down the page. Suddenly the man's face went red and his blood veins popped, and Robbie smiled somewhat smuggly.

Jonah growled and slammed the letter onto the desk. “What is this, Parker?! Who does your mom THINK SHE IS?!”

“She's my aunt, and I don't know what she wrote, I wasn't allowed to look at it,” Peter told him, holding Jonah's furious gaze, but wringing his hands together. “I, uh, live with my aunt.”

“She calls him her nephew in the-” 

“Shut up, Robbie!” Jonah shouted, but the heat behind his anger waned. “Why didn't the coward come and make threats to my face?! Huh? Sending her half beaten nephew to deliver the message like we live in the dark ages! If she was trying to garner my sympathy, it ain't working! YOU'RE FIRED!!”

Peter blinked. “She had a heart attack last week and the doctor said she shouldn't be doing anything strenuous. She also doesn't use… technology… much…” He trailed off, noticing Jonah's withering glare. “She made threats?”

The glare sharpened.

Peter floundered and took a step towards the door. “I can just… go now.”

“Sit, Parker.”

Peter dropped into the chair, pulling his backpack to his chest to act as a protective barrier. The SD card with the photos found its way into his hand and he twirled it nervously around.

Robbie plucked the letter out from under Jonah's hand and finished reading it with an arched eyebrow and an amused smirk. “I like your aunt, Peter. Jonah, I'm keeping this letter. Going to frame it.”

Jonah's glare snapped over to Robbie.

Robbie ignored it. “So, Peter, your aunt says you have a proposition for us.”

Peter's mouth opened then clamped shut. He swallowed before he asked again, “she made threats?”

“Proposition, Parker. Out with it!”

“Yes, something about child endangerment and lawsuits were mentioned,” Robbie answered, ignoring Jonah.

Peter's mouth fell open in a little ‘o’. He had tried to tell her he slipped on the ice, but she saw right through his lie. So, he had to give her what he was ‘hiding’. He had decided getting as close to the truth as he could was the best option. So, he got hurt while chasing a superhero fight for pictures and that had been believable enough. But he really hadn't expected her to take the half truth this far. It wasn't like he could tell her that Captain America nailed him in the face with his frisbee of freedom because he was wanted for a murder he didn't do and was too good at evading the NYPD and SWAT so the Avengers, Earth's Mightiest Heroes, were now gunning for his arrest.

His life spiraled so quickly.

“Parker, you have fifteen seconds to make your proposal.” Jonah glowered, sunken into his seat.

“Oh, uh, um…” Peter tried to kickstart his brain with little success. “The, uh, website. The Daily Bugle website. It, uh.” He cleared his throat at Jonah’s deepening scowl. The words suddenly spilled from his mouth. “The website sucks. It crashes when there's more than five people on it at a time and it's so awkward to navigate. I'd be surprised if you got more than a hundred viewers a week. I'm really good with computers and I could help Mr. Johansson fix it and maintain it if you hire me as a web designer.”

Robbie beamed, while Jonah looked to be on the verge of a conniption. Before the regret of his boldness could completely sink in, Peter's spider-sense buzzed, lightly directing him to the door. The usual hustle and bustle outside the office had fallen to near silence.

The door flew open. Peter jumped out of his seat, standing against the wall, clinging to his backpack.

Jonah's angry shout died in his throat as Tony Iron Man Stark and Captain Steven Rogers strolled in. 

Peter's initial instinct told him to fling himself out the window behind Jamison's desk, but the fact the heroes hadn't noticed him yet kept him frozen like a deer in headlights.

Rogers hung back, apologizing to Betty, while Tony strode right up to Jolly Jonah's desk like he owned the place. Jonah stood, matching Stark's height with his arms crossed over his chest.

“We need your help taking down Spider-Man,” Tony stated instead of a greeting.

A spark lit in Jonah's eye, but he said nothing.

Relief and dread made Peter's stomach roll. They weren't exactly here for him, Peter Parker. But he was still royally screwed. As soon as they noticed him they would see the bruises on his face and they would know. And he would be screwed and Jamison would know and the world would know and he would be locked away forever in an orange jumpsuit for a crime he didn't commit.

No, he couldn't panic; that would only make him look more suspicious and put him at more risk. Peter Parker shouldn't be scared of heroes. Peter had never met them before, so no reason to be scared or mad. Definitely no reason to be mad. He licked his lips.

Captain America shut the door. The click sounded more like a nail in a coffin or a lock on a cage than a door shutting. With a tired sigh, Captain America joined Tony Stark at the front of the desk.

“Take him in, Tony. Not down,” the Captain said.

“Doesn't matter. We just need to know who takes the pictures of Spider-Man.”

Peter's brain flatlined.

“Lots of people take pictures of Spider-Man,” Jonah said defensively. He didn't so much as glance in Peter's direction. Neither did Robbie.

Peter could only stare wide eyed at the man who fired him every other week, mouth hanging open. A strange warmth bubbled up in his chest that he held back with suspicion. 

“Oh please.” Tony Stark rolled his eyes. With a click of a button on his watch a hologram flew up displaying every single photo Peter had taken that made it into the paper. “Sure, lots of people take pictures of Spider-Man. But hardly ever so close, and not with the same camera. So, who took these pictures?”

The SD card in his fist suddenly felt poisonous. Incriminating. 

“Those photos were sold to me on the promise of discretion and anonymity. I won't sell out one of my own. Now scram, you're interrupting a job interview.” He jabbed his thumb at Peter.

Both heroes blinked, seeing the teen for the first time. Peter stood stiff, frozen in place under the four sets of eyes.

Tony Stark cussed in surprise. “Damn kid, hope you were able to give some back.”

Peter's brows furrowed in confusion as he tried to reign in the panic. 

“Huh?” His voice squeaked embarrassingly.

“The shiner, kid.”

“Oh-oh, um. The ice. I slipped. No one really to give back to.” His eyes betrayed him and he glanced at the fading bruise on Captain America's jaw.

Tony Stark showed no sign of noticing as he smirked.

“Sure, kid,” he said without an ounce of belief. “Sorry about your interview. Or you're welcome, depending on how you look at it. But you should probably scoot, important hero business and all that, you understand.” He dismissed him with a flippant wave of his hand, turning back to Jamison. He didn't wait for Peter to leave or make sure he did. “I'll pay you and the photographer for… the assistance. Trust me, with the numbers I'm willing to sink into the mission at this point the photographer will be thanking you that you gave us their name.”

Peter's breath caught. A hungry light shone in Jamison's eyes, but the man remained silent, staring down the billionaire. After a tense moment, Peter realized Jamison was waiting for him. The Spider hating, money loving editor-in-chief looked more and more constipated the longer Peter kept quiet.

“Fifty grand each,” Stark broke the quiet, trying to break the last thread holding Jonah together. 

Peter released a whooshing breath.  _ Fifty what now?? _

His reaction drew Captain America's attention, a look of puzzlement on his face. Two unbelievably long seconds ticked by.

“PARKER!” Jonah burst.

Peter yelped, jumping so bad he dropped the USB and his backpack.

The burning glare the man leveled him with was enough to freeze Peter before he could retrieve the lost items.

“Why the hell…” he fumed, “have you not left yet?” 

The way he breathed like a raging bull, but carefully spoke told Peter that wasn't actually what he was asking.

Peter's mouth worked to form words that he didn't have. If he kept his yap shut and left after Stark dropped those figures, suspicion was sure to rise. He could come up with a believable lie for fifty grand, right?

No, he couldn't. Peter Parker could live with Jamison's suspension and wrath, but not the Avengers’. They would most definitely figure out his secret and lock him up forever.

Captain America bent down and picked up the SD card by his feet. Peter's mouth went dry.

“Yeah, kid. Told you to get.” Tony Stark sighed boredly. “I know it's not everyday you meet superheroes, but you don't want to get caught up in this, trust me.”

Peter made a strangled sound in his throat. Captain America looked at him and the card, gears turning. They made eye contact and Peter could see the lightbulb flick on. 

“You're the photographer.”

  
  


Peter floundered for words, trapped in the man's knowing gaze.

“What was that? Who? The kid?” Stark tried to catch up, not understanding where his partner's deduction came from.

“Now hold on just a minute.” Robbie interjected holding his hands out calmingly. “Mr. Parker is a high schooler here for a job opening with our tech support team.”

Robbie earned himself a new level of appreciation and respect from Peter in coming to his defense, but it was too late. Peter's face had already given it away that he was, in fact, who they were looking for. This was the reason he wore a full face mask as Spider-Man.

He stiffly picked up his backpack and checked his bare wrist. “Oh,” his voice shook, “would you look at that; it's half past time I should go.”

He walked briskly towards the door. 

“Now, wait a minute, son.”

Peter bolted. He flew out the door as fast as he dared.

“Peter?!” Betty cried, unknowingly giving them his full name. 

“Sorry, gotta run, Mrs. Brant! Bye!” He called, volting past the elevator and into the stairwell.

Peter knew that actually escaping was a bad idea. They had his name and face; they would just show up at his house eventually, bringing Aunt May into it. He ran because he needed time to come up with a plan, and he did not want Jolly Jonah to have front row seats to his exposure, or any half baked lie he pulled out of his butt.

He slowed, noticing no one was behind him. He glanced up over the railing just in time to see Tony Stark stride through the door. They locked eyes.

“Kid-” The man sounded placating, if not a little irritated. 

Peter leapt down the last flight of steps and crashed into the door, flinging it open. He skidded to a halt at the main entrance, the iron suit standing guard just outside. His sneakers squeaked as he changed direction to the back entrance. 

He knew they'd catch him, it was part of the plan. But still his heart hammered in his chest just as hard as the last time he'd run from them.

He was able to decide on four things before he made it into the alley.

1) Peter and Spider-Man communicate with each other.

2) Peter has never seen Spider-Man without the mask nor knows his real name.

3) He splits the photo money with Spider-Man, and for this Spider-Man lets Peter take his pictures.

4) He in no way has a relationship beyond that with Spider-Man and therefore has no reason to defend him. No defending Spidey for Peter. Spidey is on his own. Doesn't need Puny Parker to stick up for him. It's not Peter's fight.

_ Flawless _ . 

Ignoring his spider-sense, he blindly flung himself into the alley and into what he anticipated to be the waiting arms of the Iron Man suit. But instead he's met with a solid wall of all American flesh.

The Captain caught him by his upper arm as he stumbled back, firmly yet gently holding him in place.

Breathing heavily in an effort to make it seem like he's already exerted himself, Peter blinks up at the blond in shock.

“Ho-how did-?” Peter stutters.

Captain America smirks at him. “We were only on the fourth floor, son. Not too far of a drop for me.”

Peter swallowed, clutching his backpack straps. “Oh.”

Tony Stark peaked out of the door. He smiled at the scene, looking more than a little pleased. He stuck his hands in his pockets and strode over to them.

“Running from the super soldier of justice probably was one of the dumbest things you could have done. Makes you look awfully suspicious, kid.”

Peter weakly tried to shift out of the captain's grip, merely sending the message that he would rather he let go. But Captain America only lifted an eyebrow. Peter scowled at him, then Stark.

“You guys are looking for me because of my association with a wanted murderer. I would kind of like to avoid being arrested for like, accessory or whatever.” He tried tugging away again.

Stark rolled his eyes. “You're not going to be arrested for accessory unless you participated in the crime.”

Peter already knew that, he was just playing dumb. But Stark's tone irked him.

“So you  _ are _ associated with Spider-Man?” Captain America pressed.

Peter stiffened. “Um, no.”

“Yeah, how about you try that one again,” Tony Stark said. “Because I'm pretty sure you know that no one is going to buy that.”

“I'm not-not  _ associated _ with-” Peter couldn't help it. He knew his lying skills left much to be desired, and the anxiety crawling under his skin over how critical his every move was in this moment spiked beyond his control for a second and he snapped. “Would you  _ let go _ of me?? I'm not going to run! It's clearly not an option for me right now anyways!”

Captain Rogers complied, holding his hands up in the air, surprised and slightly apologetic. Peter took a large grateful step back, tugging his jacket back into place as he composed himself. His breath puffed in front of his face in the cold air.

“Look, he just-just caught me trying to take pictures of him this one time and- I- he- I told him I needed a picture of him for the reward and he agreed to let me take a few if we split the reward… and then Mr. Jamison said he'd pay me again if I got more… so, we've sorta been splitting the money.” Peter shrugged, crossing his arms, unable to look at either of them. With just him knowing, the thought of selling selfies to a man who hated his guts was funny. But others knowing made it more humiliating than funny.

“How do you contact each other?” The Captain asked.

Peter stiffened, because he hadn't even thought of that. “Um-um, he usually contacts me. Tell-tells me where to be and when. That's it, I swear.”

Stark lifted an eyebrow, arms crossed and feet apart opposingly. “He asked you how, kid.  _ How _ does he contact you?”

His mouth opened, then closed with a snap. “What happens if I tell you? You're not going to tell the police about this are you? Because if the police find out, Jamison will find out, and my aunt will find out, and I'll definitely lose my job, and I'll be grounded until I'm six feet under, and I really need this money. My aunt can't keep up with the bills on her own.”

The poor aunt card already worked for him once today, he hoped he could get a second use out of it. Tony Stark looked unimpressed. 

“Clearly you need the money. You turned down my generous offer just minutes ago.”

  
  


Captain Rogers jumped in, saving Peter from having to respond to that and sent a silent warning to Stark. “If we apprehend Spider-Man, it won't be necessary for the police to know. If you wish to remain anonymous, we'll be sure to keep it that way.”

He held out the SD card in a show of good grace. Peter eyed it warily, before snatching it. A beat of tense silence passed before Peter sighed. In a fluid motion only practiced students could accomplish, he switched his backpack from hanging from his back to his front. He thanked his lucky stars he had two physics books, and a chem and a biology book effectively hiding the suit at the bottom of his bag.

His hand shook as he fumbled for the burner phone stuffed in there somewhere with his suit. He'd gotten it a few days ago, replacing the last one he broke. He was pretty sure he'd only used it three-no four times to call the cops. 

He hesitated when his sweaty hand found the plastic surface. The look he gave the two heroes must have communicated his second thoughts because Stark huffed in annoyance and took a step forward. Peter took two steps back. The alley wall of the Daily Bugle now within reach if he decided volting up it was necessary for escape.

Arm still in the backpack, Peter glowered warningly. Captain Rogers sent the man a similar look. Stark put up his hands, taking a step back.

  
  


“He-he didn't do it.” The voice of reason squealed to deaf ears that this was not a part of the plan, and was a huge and horrible mistake, and that he should start backpedaling immediately. But he didn't. “It wasn't- it wasn't Spider-Man. He didn't ki-kill anyone.”

“Not associated, huh?”

“What makes you say that, son?”

“Because he wouldn't! He's not like that. He doesn't- he wouldn't-” Peter felt queasy just thinking about it, and could seem to get the words out of his mouth.

“You're right, this isn't really his MO.” Rogers agreed easily. “But he is a suspect and is resisting arrest.”

“You don't think he did it?” Peter asked, surprised. 

“It's an ongoing investigation.”

Peter looked back and forth between them as they stood waiting for him to make a decision. As if he actually had much of a choice.

“My name won't be mentioned, at all?”

“Can't necessarily promise that, but we can try.” Stark shrugged.

“No, that's not good enough. I give you this, my involvement ends here. If any of Spider-Man's enemies catches wind that someone has a connection with him, I am as good as dead, alright? I remain anonymous. Period. You guys don't know who I am. You don't contact me again because if I give you this my connection with Spider-Man is gone, and I won't have anything for you. Capiche?”

“Understood.”

Peter blinked in surprise. He really hadn't expected them to listen. He stared at the captain's outstretched hand and it took a moment to realize the man wasn't looking for a handshake. Peter deposited the phone in the hand.

“If-if you wait, he'll probably call the phone in a day or so…” Peter held up the SD card in explanation. “If the pictures I got run, that is.”

He winced, realizing he would have to go back inside and talk to Jamison.

“Thank you for your cooperation, son-”

“What's he like?” Stark interrupted.

“Huh?” Peter squeaked stupidly.

“The Spider-brat. What's he like? From what we've gathered he's small, young, arrogant, very… flippant, annoying,” he waved his hand in the air indicating the list went on, “but that's what he's showcasing. You've spoken to him in a neutral setting. So, what's he like, kid?”

  
  


Peter sputtered. “I, uh, I think you summed it up pretty well. But I need to, um, go secure my job? Or at least make sure I haven't lost it?” He gestured to the door.

“Yeah, tell your boss I'll be making that donation, if it helps any. Don't understand why you want to work for this rag, though.”

“Wai- wait. You're paying us the-”

“Your boss, at least his company, not you. You ran.” Stark pointed an accusatory finger at him.

“Oh,” Peter breathed. “Okay.”

“We're sorry for the trouble, Mr. Parker. But we do appreciate your cooperation.” The Captain America held out a card. “If you do find yourself in trouble because of this, or any trouble at all, please don't hesitate to call.”

Numbly, Peter took the card.

“You have a good day. Good luck with the job, but keep your head low for a while.” The man nodded, sounding so formal, yet so sincere at the same time.

“See ya around, kid.”

And just like that they left the alley and were gone.

“I certainly hope not, Tin-can.” Peter muttered, putting the card in his pocket.

**Bllopp**

Peter told them to wait a day, to hopefully give himself time. But after being chewed out by Jamison, getting the job, stopping two muggins and a purse snatcher, Peter couldn't wait any longer. His nerves were going to kill him if he didn't do something.

So, there he sat on top of a payphone, mask rolled up, quarters in hand. 

“C'mon, Spidey. C'mon. You can do this, just act natural. Be chill.”

He shoved the quarters in and jammed in the number before he could think himself out of it.

It rang once, twice, and-

“Hello?” His own voice greeted him, sounding timid.

He blinked, and blinked again. Tony Stark, he had to admit, had some scary tools up his sleeve. Peter hadn't considered this to be a possibility in what they might do when he called.

“Uh, yeah, hey, what's up, um, kid?” He managed to get his voice from sounding strangled to normal.

His mind raced to figure out a script for himself. 

“Um, Spider-Man?”

“The one and only.”

“Are you alright? Are- are you injured?”

His voice sounded genuinely concerned. But the question sounded more like they were asking for weaknesses. Which absolutely didn't bother him at all.

“Right as rain,” he snipped.

“O-oh okay. Then… why are you calling me?” His voice squeaked embarrassingly. He did  _ not _ sound like that. “I mean, I did manage to sell some pictures, but they… haven't run yet?”

“Oh good, how much are we talking this time?”

“Uh two- two hundred.”

Peter whistled, because that was a lot for a single set, and he needed to recover from his jolt of fear. He wasn't sure how they knew the amount he was actually paid yesterday, but he didn't like it. He needed to wrap up the conversation though. They were probably tracing the call.

“So-so why are you calling?” They pressed. He had them confused. 

“Oh, I just heard a rumor that Rust-Ease and Captain Puerto Rico paid the Bugle a visit. Wanted to check in.”

“I didn't tell them anything, I swear!”

The fake fear in his fake voice turned on a light bulb in Peter's head. Peter Parker was a poor, small, high school student with a bruise the size of Texas on his face, splitting money with a cocky vigilante that can lift cars over his head and may or may not have killed someone. All the puzzle pieces pointed to a very unhealthy and dangerous partnership. Which, he had to admit, was accurate; just not in the way they were thinking.

This whole conversation was beyond strange and had him scratching the back of his head and looking around the fairly quiet street.

“Uh, okay. Probably should have. I mean that would have gotten them off your butt. Just- just wanted to make sure they didn't hurt you or anything.” He winced at how choppy that came out. He needed to wrap this up.

“Oh, um, no. They didn't hurt me. Didn't even notice me really, just- just offered money for the photographer to come forward…”

“Aaaand you didn't take it. Wow. Okay. How much money? Was it Stark offering? You didn't take Starks money? We could have split that! Okay, doesn't matter. Is the opportunity still there?” Strangely it felt nice to berate himself out loud like this. It was also nice to underhandedly tell the Avengers he wasn't intimidated. 

“Uh, no?”

“Damn. Okay. Let's meet tomorrow morning- tomorrow's Sunday right?”

“No? Today is Friday.”

“Right. So, Sunday morning, let's say nine, usual place.” Peter wanted to see how they'd handle that one.

“I-I can't make it to the usual place… can we meet at the old boreded up building on 12th and 49th ?”

Easily, apparently. 

“Yup. At nine. Got to go. See ya, bye!” He hung up and bolted.

He found a ledge of a tall building to hide under. Putting a hand over his racing heart, he forced himself to take a few nice deep breaths.

"This was a mistake." 

He had a long night of anxious dread ahead of him.


End file.
